


Chance Meeting

by GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Grocery Store, Kylo Ren Has An Eight Pack, Kylo Ren is shredded, M/M, Meet-Cute, Poverty, This Is Painfully British, Trans Armitage Hux, Trans Male Character, snobbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/pseuds/GenerallyHuxurious
Summary: Hux lost his boyfriend, his cat, his credit rating and his job. Now all he has is a handful of change to keep the heating on. And then this idiot appears.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In the UK if you can't pay your utility bill you have to pay in advance with a card you top up in your local corner store.

He hates this. He hates the squalor of it almost as much as he hates the snobbish part of him that still judges the situation so much. He's a fucking engineer. He shouldn't be standing here, in his crack-soled boots with the slush soaking into his socks, in the middle of a queue of twenty people, waiting to buy just enough gas to keep the heating on for one more night.

The woman at the front of the queue is crying because there isn't any money left on her debit card. There's nothing he can do to help her. He checks the change in his pocket again. £1.50. Mostly in pennies. He'll be lucky if they even accept it as legal tender. There's nothing he can do.

He sold most of his clothes on eBay last month and bagged up the rest for a 40p Per Kilo place- all he's got left is what he's wearing and three interview outfits. His boots are the only shoes he’s owned in a long time- his feet are just too big to fit into anything he can find in a charity shop. He just has to hope none of the interviewers will notice the cracks spanning the whole width of his soles and the areas of leather so worn he's had to colour them in with permanent marker. 

At least he doesn't have to find a way to pay for the electric too- there's £5 left on that meter. He's disconnected everything but his phone- emptied the fridge and scrubbed it down; taken all the bulbs out to resist the urge to use the lights; sold the ancient microwave to a neighbour. His ex had a near obsessive love of tealights and left dozens of them in the pantry when he walked out with his cat and his credit rating, so he might as well make use of them. 

He'd never thought, not once in his life, that he'd get so far into debt that the utility companies wouldn't even trust him to pay his bills. But he has. So now he has to buy their services in advance, a pound or two at a time, at four times the usual rate. That's the thing that pisses him off most about this whole mess. He's broke, he's in debt, then they make him pay over the odds so there's even less chance of clawing his way back out. He sighs. Keep the poor in poverty so they can't defend themselves.

The guy behind him in the queue is wearing a creaking leather jacket. Somehow, despite the busyness of the shop that quiet creak is worming its way into his brain. Perhaps it's the fact that he doesn't want to hear the woman’s tearful begging any more, or the bored shopkeeper threatening to call the police if she doesn't move. Or perhaps it's the arrhythmic pattern of the noise that bothers him most, like the guy is jiggling out of sync with the universe.

He turns, intending to say something- or probably to just tut in a display of that oh so British passive aggression- but finds himself frozen in surprise. The guy is  **big** . Not just tall but broad shouldered and so muscular that the creaking noise might just be the jacket begging for mercy. Or a quick death. Unthinkingly he looks down, noting the taught stretch of denim over thick thighs for a moment before his brain points out the extreme strain the guy’s button fly is under. 

Suddenly he isn't cold any more. In fact the whole shop could be heated by the nuclear glow of his cheeks and ears as he blushes. Is that an erection or largest cock he’s ever seen?! Who even dresses like that, tucked up all neat towards the belt rather than hanging loose and relaxed?! It's like meat on display in the market. It's obscene.

Oh dear god, _why is he still looking?!_ _STOP LOOKING_ ** _._**

His brain is screaming orders but three months of unsatisfactory wanking has left him with a libido that's equal parts desperate and imaginative. 

He has no idea how long he's been staring but his brain has already offered him about eighteen different things he could do with it, some of them probably illegal.

There's a noise like a half disguised snort. He looks up guiltily to find the guy staring at his own reflection in the door of the beer fridge next them. He almost sags with relief, he hadn't been seen… the guy grins and winks. Is it possible to spontaneously combust by blushing? Signs point to maybe. 

Another woman in the queue- clutching nothing but a pot of instant gravy and probably in a rush to get back to dinner- throws a tenner at the shopkeeper. The drama gives him an excuse to look away and stew in embarrassment in peace.

Or it would have done if the queue hadn't shifted. 

He doesn’t notice in time and doesn't move fast enough. Muscles wrapped in leather jacket collides with sinew and threadbare sweater, and his handful of change is scattered across the floor. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or punch the guy- and probably break his hand in the process- but at least leather jacket helps to scrabble around on the floor in search of every tuppence and penny. 

The queue doesn’t wait for them though. It reforms and they’re relegated to the back.

“Sorry. Keep a tighter grip next time.” Leather jacket’s voice is unnecessarily deep to go with the unnecessary muscles and the unnecessary stretch of his jeans, because of course it is. He’s also unnecessarily rude.

“Yeah well, you watch where you’re going.” He mutters in reply, his voice almost cracking to his old register he’s so damn angry.

“It’s kinda hard with a view like that.”

He might actually combust on the spot. “What?”

“Can’t go around with a butt like that and expect anyone behind you to pay attention, now can you?”

“I beg your pardon?!” He’s working entirely on autopilot right now, because his libido is telling him to agree and his temper is telling him to punch this dickhead and his cold, wet feet are telling him to shut up and get to the front of the fucking queue before they fall off. Which of course leads him directly to his default state of righteous indignation. 

Leather jacket actually has the audacity to  _ laugh _ .

“Hah! I knew it! It  _ is _ you! You don’t remember me do you?”

And now the Kill Bill sirens are going off in his head because he’s finally noticed the hint of an American accent and that means the Air Force Base. He does not want to talk to anyone who knew him then. He honestly thought he’d moved far enough, both geographically and physically, to never, ever run into someone from his childhood ever again.

“Seriously though, you look amazing. I love the beard.” 

Leather jacket sounds sincere, but he still has no idea who he is and if he  _ is _ from the Base…

“What are you going by these days?” The man continues with a grin that’s starting to waver. “I, uh, used to be Ben but I’m using Kylo Ren now.”

Ben. There had been about fifteen Bens around the place, but none of them had looked like this almost-model, so who… wait…

“Ben  _ Solo? _ Wasn’t Kylo your dog?”

“Yeah well, I loved that…”

He stuck his hand out with a smile. “Armitage Hux. Or just ‘Hux’ still.” 

Armitage had been a good dog too. He’d always made him happy when everything else had brought him down.

Oh. His hand’s been half enveloped in one massive paw while Kylo’s other hand gentle urges him to keep up with the queue. They’re both very, very warm. “Our parents really shouldn’t have let us watch Indiana Jones so much as kids.”

“Mhmm.” Hux agrees. “So you're still a colossal prick then?”  

“More so.” Kylo demonstrates with a dramatic flex of his arms that made the jacket shriek under pressure and the woman behind them tut aggressively. 

Over the top or not it is a very impressive display. True to his nature Hux just rolls his eyes. His libido is about ready to murder him but he can’t resist teasing Kylo now he knows who he is. 

They weren’t ever going to be the best of friends as kids with four and a half years between them- but Kylo had been awkward and outspoken and a bit scary which had gelled well with awkward, grumpy, scary Hux. So there’d been a couple of years where they’d often found themselves in a misfit sports team during lunch breaks, playing rough and getting into fights. Kylo had had issues with his pilot father and Hux had just had issues a plenty, so they’d gotten along. 

But the last time they’d seen each other Kylo had been a 6’ tall thirteen year old with ears he’d never grow into and Hux hadn’t even heard of T. It was strange to think they were the same people. 

“So uh, I’m guessing from the change it’s either either gas or electric? They don’t let you buy cigarettes individually any more. Unless you’re still a chocolate fiend…”

Oh right, he was still poor. And cold. And tired. “Gas. I’ve not had chocolate in a decade.”

“Shame, I’ve got some chocolate body paint back home.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s a great image, admit it.”

It was, it really was. At this rate Hux wasn’t going to need the heating because he was going catch fire. Mmm that mental image would keep him warm for a week at least. 

“I’m almost out of both. Student loan was late again and work doesn’t pay til next week.”

“Student loan?” That was a surprise, Kylo had to be about 25 now.

“Physiotherapy degree. I had a gap year or two or four or… well.” Kylo shrugs and looks a little awkward. “But I’m doing well now. Just, you know, not financially.”

“Ha. Yeah. I do know.”

“You?”

“Engineer. Or I was. I’ve got an interview with Boeing next week though. If I don’t freeze to death first.”

“Nice.” 

Silence fell as the queue shuffled on. Hux just couldn’t think of a conversation opener that wasn’t an outright come on and the tight jeans weren’t helping. He did want to see Kylo again so maybe he should just ask for his number? He was terrible at this when he wasn’t in a bar.

“You know, if you have electricity, we could just pool our money and spend it all on gas?” Kylo suggests with a grin that grows brighter and more mischievous by the minute. “And then we could save money gas by sharing body heat.” He wiggled his eyebrows meaningful.

And here was Hux wasting time trying to think of a way to be subtle! Still it was a valid suggestion with many good points, he really should consider...

At this point Hux’ libido gave up screaming for attention and seized the reins. 

“Okay.”

They definitely didn’t need heating with Kylo grinning like that. 

* * *

They spent less than a pound on gas that week.

Though Kylo did have to make a trip to the laundrette to get what turned out to be  _ expired _ chocolate body paint out of Hux’ sheets.


End file.
